Flash Fiction: Self Storage

‘My Dad has a sofa in his lock-up. It’ll be great.’ Christopher knew he sounded too keen.

‘It’ll be great,’ Jack repeated in a high voice. Miranda laughed.

‘There’s all sorts of stuff we could nick.’

They trailed along behind, Jack dragging his lighter along the corrugated walls and Miranda hanging off his neck.

‘Number 229.’ Christopher unlocked it and rolled the shutter up.

They stared into the unit, mouths open, silent, until Miranda screamed.

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This is Friday Fictioneers flash fiction. Picture supplied by Amy Reese. Join in, or read others. I’d love to know what you think of mine.

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Goodreads is currently hosting a giveaway for my second novel, Swimming Lessons. You can win one of 30 copies if you enter before this coming Saturday. Sorry, but it is only for people in the US. Click here to enter.

A great atmosphere in so few words. Chilling build up and leaving us wondering what the hell is going on – in a good way. My mind is racing, wondering what Christopher stored in that lock up. Great stuff, Claire

Great sense about these relationships for such a short passage. I loved the part where Jack repeated the words back. And a nice mystery hook at the end. What could it be? I’m guessing something bloody and awful, probably a dead body. But whose? Stay tuned for the next episode, I hope?

Delightfully creepy at the end there. I found it hard to work out the ages of the players to begin with – at first I thought it was Dad dragging bored kids away from the park – and then later to figure out what they were doing there – a sofa for what? The ages could perhaps be clearer if the lighter and “hanging off his neck” line came earlier – just a suggestion.

I'm a writer and an artist. I have written four novels: Our Endless Numbered Days, Swimming Lessons, Bitter Orange, and Unsettled Ground (to be published in 2021). Click 'Books' in the top menu to find out more.